Blog Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
You Can Save Me
By R.L. Merrill
Carnival of Mysteries Series
Universal Link
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Exclusive Excerpt:
My phone buzzed as I opened the door.
“Detective Muse.”
“Detective, this is Taylor in dispatch. We received a call on the tip line for you. Information regarding the Buttonwillow homicide.”
“That should go to Detective Dax Brown. I’m on,” I ground my teeth before the last bit, “vacation.”
“They specifically requested you, Detective. I’m sending the callback number to your phone. You can pass it on to Detective Brown if you like.”
“Thank you,” I said, but she’d already hung up. A follow-up buzz indicated a text. I finished climbing into the truck and started it up, the cold seeping in through my jacket. I blew on my hands and then hit the call button.
It rang three times before a male voice answered.
“Yeah?”
“This is Detective Walter Muse of the Kern County Sheriff’s Department. I was given this number from the tip line?”
“Right. Thank you for calling. Sir, my name is Ryan Wells, and a friend of mine has some information about separate incidents at the Buttonwillow Rest Area. He’d like to speak with you.”
Ryan Wells? “You were there this morning. At Buttonwillow,” I said. “You spoke to the CHP.”
“Yes, sir. We were there. Are you still in LA?”
I flinched. “How did you know I was in LA?” Had I been tailed? Was I that off my game I hadn’t noticed? Maybe the guys were right to push me to take this vacation.
“My friend says he saw you outside the gates of the house we’re staying at in Laurel Canyon.”
What the hell? “What’s your friend’s name?”
Ryan was quiet for a minute, and then I heard him muffle the phone and talk to someone else. “When can you be in Laurel Canyon? We’ll explain everything when you get here.”
At this time of night, it shouldn’t be a problem to get there in an hour, but it was already ten o’clock. “It would take me an hour.”
“Good. We’ll be up. Do you need the address?”
“Give it to me just to be safe.”
I typed it into my GPS app as he spoke. Of course, the smart thing to do would be to go home and sleep and then head out in the morning.
The smartest thing to do would be to call Dax, Gene, or Denny. Any of them, really.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
Apparently, the smart thing was not on the menu.
“Thank you, Detective. My friend, he’s… well, he’s really nervous to talk to you. I don’t know his whole story, but it’s harsh, if you get me.”
Alarms started going off in my mind, but I was already pushing the go button on the GPS and putting my truck in gear. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. If you could, please keep him there?”
“Yes, sir. He’s agreed to let us help. Don’t make me sorry I called you, feel me?”
“I do.”
“Oh, and Detective? Mind picking up a carton of Marlboros?”
“Cigarettes? Okay…”
We hung up, and I drove like the devil was chasing me. He had been ever since my father was assigned Dane Donovan’s case.
Forty-nine minutes later, I pulled up to the same gates I’d stood in front of earlier that day, where I’d thought I’d seen a ghost for the second time in a day.
Who the hell was I going to find at Ryan’s? I ran through all of the information I’d gotten from the phone call; he’d said “the house where we’re staying.” What the fuck was I walking into? Wells had a record, but not for anything violent. He was a damn rock star, for crying out loud. I’d asked Siri to play music from his band—Backdrop Silhouette—on the drive down, and it almost blew out my speakers when it came on. I had to scramble to turn down the volume.
I’d often been accused of having stunted musical growth. I preferred singer-songwriter type music and the classics from the ’60s and ’70s. It took me back to the time when things were good… when my parents were in love and things were happy at our home, before my father had his break.
I parked my truck at the curb and got out, looking around. I texted my location to Gene, figuring he was the one person who wouldn’t freak the fuck out.
Jesus, Muse. You were supposed to go home.
I got a call off the tip line. The same guys who called in the vic this morning. Tell Dax in the morning, okay? If you don’t hear from me by eight, ping me. If I don’t get back to you, send my last known to LAPD.
The three dots floated for much longer than usual.
Fuck you, Walter. Be safe.
“I love you too,” I sent back, using voice text. I rang the buzzer on the pole next to the gate.
“Detective?” a voice spoke from the speaker.
“Yeah.”
The gates opened slowly, and I made the walk up the long, dark driveway. The house had floodlights and security cameras, and it looked like it had been renovated recently. I knew this had been the home of Tess Miller until she’d passed away under suspicious circumstances. The details were sketchy in my mind at this late hour, but I remember it wasn’t pretty. Diane had sure been shaken up about it.
The front door opened as I approached.
“Thank you for coming,” Wells said. I stepped past him into the foyer, handed him the carton of cigarettes that set me back a pretty penny, and was startled to find a hulking blond guy standing behind him, scowling at me.
“Detective, this is my husband, Kal Alexandrou. There are no weapons or drugs in the house that I’m aware of, but it belongs to my producer, Scott Cross. If you need to search the place, I give consent as long as you know we’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. I can provide his contact information if you need it.”
I stood with my back to the wall and raised an eyebrow at him. “I appreciate that. But you’re no longer on parole, from what I understand. Is there anyone else here?”
“Me.”
It was good the wall was at my back.
The ghost appeared in the entryway to what looked like a living room, and I would have fallen over backward otherwise.
My hand involuntarily went to my weapon at my right side. “You.”
He walked closer and stood beside Kal. He came up to the guy’s sternum.
The size is right. The hair is the same. Those eyes…
And up close, he looked even more familiar, like I’d seen him before. Talked to him.
The carnival. The Troubadour.
No way.
Ryan looked between us and put a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.
“Detective Muse, this is Dee Dee.”
He couldn’t be a ghost, then, if these two saw him. Right?
Ryan picked up on my attempt to avoid a freak out. “You look like you could use some coffee? Tea?”
“Please.”
Ryan chuckled. “Kal, honey, please grab Detective Muse a coffee. You remember how to use the Keurig?”
The big man nodded but was hesitant to leave his husband’s side, much less Dee Dee’s.
“I’m fine,” Ryan murmured to ease his concern, pushing up on his toes to kiss his cheek. Then he turned to smile at me. “Come on. Let’s sit.”
My brain kicked back on. “No one else is in the house?”
“Just us three,” Ryan said. He put his arm around Dee Dee’s shoulders, and I followed them into the living room.
Dee Dee looked back at me, his green eyes wide.
The pretty man with the green eyes.
My dream.
Had I somehow superimposed the two men together?
I shook my head. Pull it together, Muse.
Enter the Giveaway:
To celebrate the release of You Can Save Me, R.L. Merrill is giving away a $25 Amazon Voucher!
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About the Author:
R.L. Merrill loves creating compelling stories that will stay with readers long after. Ro writes inclusive contemporary romance, paranormal, and horror-inspired music reviews. A mom, wife, daughter, former educator, and advocate for social and reproductive justice, you can currently find cruising in her Bronco with Great Dane pup Velma, being terrorized by feline twins Dracula and Frankenstein, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more…
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